The Lourdes Tales
by Phoenix McCarthy
Summary: This story was written as an idea based loosely on the Canterbury Tales: a group of pilgrims sharing stories along the road of travel. Some of these stories are the product of my imagination, others are real folklore with a twist. Enjoy thouroughly!
1. Chapter 1

_**Prologue to Our Journey**_

It was the early death and martyring of St. Bernadette that led the travelers to Lourdes, France. The saint of Lourdes, the saint of penance, the saint of poverty, and the child visionary is to many the saint of family. No particular feature or product of this little pocket town was worthy of great prominence; it was merely a stopping point for mountaineers or travelers. Lourdes had seen its share of hardship in previous years. Droughts had killed the wheat harvest, the industrial revolution threatened the mills, and a cholera epidemic swept through the area, killing many and almost claiming the life of our beloved Bernadette. By the nineteenth century, Lourdes had only dreams of past glories. But it was these words spoken by the Virgin Mary to Bernadette on February 18, 1858 that became a prophecy of Bernadette's life: "I do not promise to make you happy in this world, but in the next." This was the promise in return for Bernadette's total compliance with the will of the Holy Mother.

Perhaps it was late spring; the days seemed longer, and the nights much warmer than previous nights. Yes, it had to have been spring, for the oaks stood mountainous and emerald green over the parade of travelers that passed through the city of Barcelona, Spain – sea port to the world. This procession of town citizens consisted of characters from every home and alley of Barcelona and beyond. Excited and awaiting the long journey ahead, infants were hoisted upon their father's broad shoulders, elderly women stepped onto wooden carriages pulled by mules, mothers held the hands of eager children, and young lovers embraced before the great departure of the city folk. This great mass of inhabitants were of French or Spanish descent, however five other individuals came to Barcelona to start the journey to praise St. Bernadette.

The first of these individuals was the Egyptian. The Egyptian was the daughter of the Captain of the Nile's greatest ship, the Isis. She stood tall amongst her fellow company. Her eyes of black pearl gave every intention that she knew the ways of the world, for she was wise indeed. Her father taught her skills of navigation and her mother taught her to love God. Her sleek hair of ebony would lightly stir on occasion in the mild breeze. Her dark flesh was indeed eye-catching from the crowd of white. Her steed was darker than her own flesh, with a black mane that danced in the wind. The Egyptian was cloaked and dressed in fine, warm linens from her native land, decorated with trinkets and ornaments. A particular piece of jewelry was a lotus blossom made of stones - one could not tell if they were of any value by a mere glance - which she proudly wore around her neck. She was noble in her behavior, acting like she was the child of Pharaoh herself, yet she never was known to be ill-hearted or vain. The Egyptian, as her suitors claim, was a wild woman: never wanting marriage - for she never seemed content. But that was of no matter, for any man would do anything for her, especially to be the husband of the great Captain's daughter. But the Egyptian was not pleased with any man, for in her unbridled heart she knew it would take more than a man to tame her. Despite her wild heart, she loved children. It was commonly known that the Egyptian would splash with the children in the Nile, as well as chase them through the city right in front of her father _and_ the Pharaoh! Another time, she let a poor blind boy touch her face, and the boy could feel the light. She made her father proud and her mother worried (heaven forbid - should she ever break her neck!), but most of all herself she made strongest and most splendid of anyone individual in the land of Egypt. Yet, still she was rebellious.

A few yards down followed the Russian. Yes, a lovely and handsome man he was. With hair of mahogany and rough white skin he was indeed intriguing. He was glanced over by every maiden eye. Indeed, he was a hard laborer, for his body showed his every day's work. A strong back from lifting massive loads, powerful arms from smithing a horseshoe or two, hearty legs from running messages from council to council, and skilled fingers from peeling potatoes for a sweet lady or two. Since the war had ended, he vagabonded from town to town, seeking work where he could for a place to rest his head and a bit to eat. The bed didn't necessarily have to be warm and the food didn't have to taste at all, for he was a good hearted man and accepted whatever the good Lord granted him. He wore on his shoulders a light cloak trimmed in fur; some tales say the fur was of a bear he killed with his own hands. He wore well kept trousers that tucked into soft leather boots. The Russian's cream-colored tunic displayed the faultless outline of his chest. Slung over his shoulder, he carried a dark brown sack. The sack appeared fairly unimportant, but it contained several dried biscuits and other tidbits for his journey. Similar to the Egyptian, the Russian never seemed content and therefore never made the commitment to settle down with a wife and family. A good-hearted vagabond was the life he made for himself, and he decided that if ever he wanted a change in lifestyle, a woman was not going to make that decision for him - he would choose when the time or company was right in coming.

Not ten yards away from the Russian traveled an old Spanish man and his wife. The Spaniard, as he was known, was a stocky man with silver hair and beard of snow. His eyes were jet and his skin tan like buckskin. The Spaniard was the local miller in his village of Aragon. His wheat mill and home rested on the banks of a river, which was the power to his business. He enjoyed music and puffing on his pipe, but he stayed away from children. He believed children to be a bother with their hungry mouths and their seeking constant attention. His wife continually reminded him that it was not attention the children sought, but love. Still, he did not let himself be pestered by youth. The Spaniard led a chestnut mule by a harness, and that mule pulled a wooden cart stocked with assorted types of foods, warm clothing, and quilted blankets. Atop the cart sat the Spaniard's wife. She was a plump, large bosomed woman of an elderly age with stripes of silver hair covering her once black locks. To her acquaintances she fit the perfect description of a kindly, aging, mother hen. She always had a flame in the fireplace with some sort of morsel cooking in her black kettle. Her home smelled of gardens and lovely things to eat. Once in a while, she would give the children of the village cookies or small cakes, and the children loved her greatly. Like her husband, she was content without housing children, for the village children were very much hers. Yet, she always longed for a daughter to sew pretty dresses for or a son to sit at her feet. But she abided by her husband's wishes, as should every good wife she felt, and kept hush about the matter.

Trotting along in the procession, the Persian kept with the pace, but barely. Goodness, the Persian was a tiny girl. She was skinny in waist and terribly lank, as if she scrounged for a meal when she possibly could. She appeared to have very little muscle to her at all; indeed if wolves ever were famished, they most certainly would not choose her to hunt, for they would starve anyhow. Her eyes showed no emotion and were empty. Of black locks and red tints was her hair; one could not tell if her skin was naturally dark or if it were the smudges of dirt that tanned her skin. Oh, such a wretch was she! Sadly, the girl possessed no mother or father, for both were in service to the Shah in Persia. Her parents seemed happy with their duties to the Shah, but the Persian thought this awful enslavement and fled one night. For many months she had been on her own; stealing a mouthful of bread here, sleeping in barns there, picking a pocket or two... Miserable was this child of Persia, but she was free. She carried over her shoulder a makeshift pack containing one half of a loaf of bread she had found and several buttons and shiny bobbles that were of value to only her.

And off to Lourdes the procession of pilgrims headed. Out of Barcelona, into the country, and to the shores of the Gave de Pau the pilgrims traveled. Horses, wagons, mules, and pilgrims moved slowly to the Spanish-French border, which was nearly a full day's journey from Barcelona. Dust was kicked up from the paths and the sun shown down upon them, with a cool breeze in the air. They passed over brooks, through other villages and farms, adding more pilgrims to their number as they passed, and through glens and wooded areas to more open fields. The chattering of excited voices never diminished throughout the day.

Once at the shores of the mighty river, the people stopped and rested for a few moments contemplating how to wade through to the other side. The tiny Persian girl sat with exhaustion on the back of the Spaniards' cart, scrounging in her pack for a bit to eat. The Spaniards waited for a sign from the priest as to which direction was to be taken to the shrine. The Russian studied the land carefully and once nodded a 'Good Day' to the old Spaniard and his wife. And impatiently the Egyptian sat atop her horse, waiting for some word as to why the procession had stopped. For many hours the pilgrims sat and chatted, but soon dusk fell and fires started to be built.

The Spaniard decided he should start a fire for his wife to cook supper over. He thought it terribly unwise of the priest to stop and consult whether to cross the unexpected river or to sit. He traveled to the back of his cart to retrieve cut logs, when he noticed a little bundle in the corner. The Spaniard thought it nothing at first, yet he saw the bundle shiver. He pulled away the blankets and found himself face to face with the starving Persian girl who wrapped herself in the Spaniard's blankets to keep warm.

"What are you doing here?" he questioned angrily. The Persian sat with her startled mouth open. She started to flee, but the Spaniard grabbed her arm, and dragged her to his wife. The wife had begun setting stones for the fire, but she turned to see her husband holding a squirming, frightened child.

"Husband, what is this?" asked the wife in a startled tone.

"This is a stow away - looking for a free ride! I found her in our blankets asleep. What shall we do with her?" the Spaniard accused angrily.

"We shall feed her and let her sleep by our fire," the wife said gently. "Now, husband, be kind enough to fetch our logs. Little girl, make sure my husband does as he is asked and aide him in his task." The Persian looked up to the Spaniard's wife in joy and then to the Spaniard who appeared annoyed, and she ran like wind to the back of the cart.

The Spaniard loaded the Persian with two logs, but her tiny body could not hold the weight. As she wobbled uncertainly back to the Spaniards' camp, the Russian came to her rescue and relieved her of the load. The Spaniard's wife thanked him and asked him to stay at their camp for supper. With much persuading he agreed to stay.

To a supper of rabbit, corn bread, and cabbage the Russian, the Persian, and the two Spaniards sat and enjoyed around the blazing fire. The Persian snatched a piece of corn bread and devoured it without a trace of crumbs. The Spaniard's wife chuckled and thought kindly of the famished girl. However, as soon as the girl had swallowed the piece of bread, the Persian immediately stood, ran a few paces and vomited it into the bushes. The Spaniards sat bewildered, but the Russian muttered, "She ate too much too fast." He went to the Persian girl, cleaned her up and took her back to the fire, where he instructed her to eat a bit more slowly. A great hush fell over the crowd, as the priest made a motion for everyone to be silenced, as he had something to say.

"We must travel around to the other end of the river to continue our journey!" announced the priest. The Spaniards nodded in agreement, the Russian looked to the stars, and Persian girl groaned with the thought of more walking on her poor, ripped feet.

The Egyptian noticed everyone's discomfort, dismounted her horse, and began to wade into the water. The priest called to the Egyptian to come onto shore at once, but the Egyptian continued to wade into the water. When she was bust deep, she called to the priest.

"Father, it is fine to forge our wagons and travel across the river to the other shore! It will be a quicker way of travel."

"To make pilgrimage to the Saint means making sacrifices for ourselves!" shouted the priest, having no word of what the Egyptian was saying. Many people gathered on the shores to gaze at the Egyptian in the water and wonder what in St. Bernadette's name she was doing contradicting the priest? "We will travel east and around the river!" announced the priest. Disgusted, the Egyptian returned back to the shore, soaking from the chilled water. She trampled to her dark horse and began to mount, but the Spaniard's wife took hold of her arm and led her to the fire to warm her shivering body. The Egyptian thanked her and she too ate a warm supper with the Persian, the Russian, and the two Spaniards.

Afterwards, they all thanked the Spaniard's wife for the delicious meal and the donation of her generosity. As the Spaniard's wife laid the Persian girl down to sleep with a full belly, the Egyptian made an announcement to her new friends.

"I will take leave from the pilgrims tomorrow morning and travel across the river to Lourdes."

"You must be mad!" stated the Spaniard. "To stay with the pilgrims is protection; alone you will have none!"

"Tomorrow I am taking leave from this protection and traveling across the river. To travel east is ludicrous and time consuming. There may be bandits on the road or dense woods."

"You are stubborn and fiery!" laughed the Russian, sitting back to enjoy the warmth and light of the fire.

The Egyptian paused for a moment collecting her thoughts, and then spoke again. "Would you like to hear a story?"

_A story?_ thought the three.

"What type of story?" inquired the Russian, somewhat intrigued.

"Is it a story relating to your insanity?" questioned the Spaniard.

"Husband, you shall treat our guest with respect and courtesy," gently spoke the Spaniard's wife. She turned to the Egyptian. "On what occasion is your story to be shared?"

"I never have an occasion, Madam. However, my story is about the first Pharaoh, or ruler, of my native Egypt."

"Is that where you're from?" noted the Russian. "By all means then, tell your tale."


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Legend of Selket**_

**The Tale of the Egyptian**

The River flowed gently between its muddy banks, and through the land called Earth. Peace was broken suddenly by the vibrating of the Earth and the bubbling of the water. The River became chaotic and restless. Peace soon calmed the Earth and the River, lulling them to a tranquil slumber.

From the womb of the gentle River rose a glorious lotus flower. The flower rested on the surface of its mother, and its petals began to slowly bloom and open, revealing a majestic warm glow. From the lotus, the Child Sun was born. River and Earth named him Ra, the God of the Sun. Ra was lifted by the Sky up to his throne in the heavens.

Again, the Earth and River trembled and shook. Ra stood from his golden throne.

"Be still," he said gently. The River and Earth became silent, and another lotus blossom emerged from the water's womb. This lotus also bloomed and the individuals within lifted their eyes and hands to Ra, who shined his life giving hands upon them, filling his brothers and sisters with immortality.

The God Ra held out his arms for his equals to take, and he lifted them up to heaven, where they sat in thrones of silver, decorated with jewels, and each bearing the cartouche, or name, of the God.

Ra's cup bearer brought jeweled goblets to each God and Goddess, filled to the rim with sweet wine. Each took their goblet happily, with no hint of complaint. Ra was last to be served. "This cup bears the Blood of Life." Each god received their gift from Ra with much gratitude and honor.

"Geb, my brother, I give you land, and give the fertile land to your name. Geb, God of Earth." Geb smiled kindly and accepted his gift from Ra.

"I thank you my brother, God of Gods," Geb replied.

"Nut, my sister, I give you space, and the stars, and the moon. Nut, Goddess of the Sky."

"I thank you, kind brother, Ra of Gods," Nut smiled.

And so this naming of the Gods and their possessions continued: Thoth, the God of scribes, of wisdom, the creator of writing, arithmetic, and the calendar. Anubis, God of the dead and watcher of the embalming ritual. Osiris, God of the afterlife, father of Horus, and husband of Isis. Isis, Wife of Osiris, mother of Horus, the symbolization of the perfect mother, and protector of mothers and children. Horus, God of war and defeater of evil, son to Osiris and Isis. Bes, God of cheer, defender of children from evil spirits. Hathor, Goddess of love, beauty, music, and joy. Bastet, Goddess of plenty and Mistress of pleasure. Tefnut, Goddess of moisture. Shu, Goddess of air and clouds. Sobek, God of the sacred crocodile. Taweret, Goddess of childbirth. Protector of both mother and baby. Ptah, God of craftsmen.

"Hapy, my father, I wish to give you the sacred waters that bore me. I name you Hapy, God of the sacred Nile. Drink!" Ra said joyously, encouraging his equals. "Drink the blood of immortality!" Each raised their glass and drank merrily.

"Lord Ra?" a small goddess called quietly. She was barely a woman, small in size, with no shape to her body. The others looked at her curiously.

"Selket," Ra proclaimed. "Yes, what is it?"

"Lord Ra, you've given everyone a gift, but me..."

"Greedy child," Shu whispered to her brothers.

"You are young. Why should you be blessed with a gift from Ra?" Horus challenged.

"Well..." Selket hesitated. "Why shouldn't I?"

"You're right, young sister..." Ra mused. "What would you like to possess?" Ra's falcon eyes flashed in her direction.

"Whatever my Lord chooses to bestow upon me..." Selket bowed, lowering her eyes.

"Whatever I choose to bestow upon you?" Ra questioned cautiously. "You seem unsure of yourself, sister. For that, I name you Selket, Goddess of the scorpions and the sands of the deserts."

'"Your Lordship!" Selket protested in vain. "...the sands and the desert scorpions! But, Sire...!"

"Quiet, sister!" Ra bellowed. "This is a time of celebration; not protest. Drink. Drink from your goblet! Drink to immortality!" Ra sang gaily.

Young Selket's heart sank into despair. The youth, without protest, drank sadly from her cup with no words otherwise.

"Thoth." The ibis headed God of Scribes looked at his falcon headed master. He bowed his head.

"Yes, Master Ra?" he inquired.

"Let this blessed morning be recorded in detail by your students," Ra ordered. Thoth smiled kindly.

"Yes, my Lord," he said with excitement.

Ra beckoned his equals to follow him, and as the others followed their Master like nomads, Ra spoke his wise words. Selket remained and sat in her silver throne, which now brought no comfort or warmth.

"Must I be a ruler of things the Gods already despise. They hate me and worship him," Selket mourned. "Ra, you've been foolish to scorn me. One morning, you'll regret hurting my pride..."

The Sun Child, the God Ra, slipped into the horizon, with his golden sheep following him into the night.

"This dulls me," Ra complained, one morning, many years after his birth, the Dawn of the Lotus.

"May I inquire why my Lord is weary?" Hathor questioned, sitting at Ra's feet.

"It has been many revolutions since our day of birth. I grow bored of this! I need to do something!" Ra expressed tiredly.

Selket looked up from her harp. Her fingers glided gracefully across the golden strings. Heavenly music flowed from the lyre. Hathor looked over at Selket.

"Selket, dear, would you mind playing something... more charming?" Hathor asked sweetly.

Selket nodded and played a beautiful song upon her instrument. Hathor smiled and turned back to her Lord.

"What will my Master Ra do to cure his unhappiness?" Hathor questioned, resting her head upon his knee.

"I will..." Ra paused becoming unsure of himself. Suddenly, his falcon eyes flashed. "I will create the most wondrous of all things!"

"What might that be, Ra?" Hathor questioned. Ra's eyes, again, became empty and blank.

"Master..." Selket interrupted, discontinuing her lovely chords.

"Selket!" Hathor boomed. "Why do you stop!"

"Speak, sister," Ra motioned. "What is so important that you must interrupt? Speak up!"

"Master, may I suggest you make a god of lower descent. A lower royalty-- a... Man!"

"Man?" Ra pondered. "Man? Selket, that's wonderful! I shall start now! But how?"

"Make them of the Nile!" Hathor exclaimed.

"No, they will be immortal if they were purely water. No, I must combine elements to make man. That is so they will be mortal- they cannot over rule us. It is so perfect!" Ra exclaimed. "We start now!" Ra called to his equals: "Brothers! Sisters! Come to the throne room! Quickly!"

"Ra," Hathor said, "how will you make Man?"

"You'll see!" Ra exclaimed. The Gods and Goddesses entered the throne room. "Hapy, prepare the Nile! Shu, gather you finest air. Geb, find me your softest Earth. And... and," Ra eyed Selket. She was hopeful that her Master would ask a favor of her.

"Isis, fetch me the loveliest papyrus along the banks of the Nile," Ra said, turning away from Selket. Selket lowered her head and closed her eyes sadly.

"Selket," Ra said. She raised her eyes. "Please play the beautiful music of Hathor while I construct Man."

Selket nodded solemnly and sat on her small, gilt stool. Her fingers strummed the strings gracefully and the palace filled with her music. The Gods and Goddesses prepared their gifts for the God Ra's special creation.

"Your tools wait for you by the shores of the Nile, my brother," Isis informed.

"Wonderful!" Ra expressed. He dashed out of the palace, paying no mind to his mournful sister, Selket.

All the immortals met at the banks of the Nile. Selket sat close to the land with her golden harp. The others sat in their thrones along the banks of the Nile, while Ra waded through the waters.

Ra made a small pattern with his hands through the air. The water rose up with the motion of his powerful hand. And with his powerful hand, the first Man rose from the heart of the Nile's waters. The Gods and Goddesses applauded with enthusiasm. The watery form stood there, connected to the water.

"Shu, Goddess of Air," Ra said. Ra stepped through the waters to the banks, where he held his hand out for Shu to take. She gathered her skirts, took her Master's hand and stepped into the chilling waters. Shu made her way to the Man of liquid. She took the Man's face in her delicate hands and blew the first breath of life into the Man's face. Man came to life and moved his limbs.

"Be still, Man," Ra said. Shu placed the Man's arms to his side and motioned for Ra to continue, and she headed back to the shore.

"Geb, your softest earth?" Ra inquired.

A clay jar held the softest earth. Geb stepped into the Nile and brought the jar of mud to his brother. Geb held the jar as Ra removed the brown paste. With his fingers, he smeared the mud across the face and body of man. Once Man was covered in his brown blanket, Ra sent Geb back to solid ground.

"Now, Isis," Ra smiled in happiness of his creation, "bring me the papyrus."

Isis gathered the reeds and stepped into the waters. But as soon as Ra touched the reeds, they caught aflame and withered.

"My Lord...?" Isis questioned.

Ra was confused and troubled. Selket looked up from her harp.

"Fetch me more papyrus!" Ra ordered.

Isis waded to the edge of the Nile. Bastet ran to help her. Isis drew her sickle and cut the reeds. Bastet gathered the reeds and bunched them neatly. When finished, Isis replaced her sickle and took the reeds from Bastet's arms.

"Here, my Lord," Isis said, giving the reeds to Ra.

He touched the reeds and they burned. Ra became furious. He threw the smoldering reeds into the Nile, where they drowned.

"If you will allow me, Sire," Selket said, "I will fetch the sand of the desert to continue your construction."

"How could sand help?" Ra questioned irritably.

"Sand is strong and lasts forever," Selket said.

"If it pleases my sister to see her sand and time wasted, then go ahead and bring me your curse," Ra said wearily.

Selket bounded for the deserts. Within moments she returned with a clay jar in her hands. She then stepped into the water and made her way to Ra. He stepped back and let her have her space. He watched with a sneer on his face, as his sister of less drew a small amount of sand, pinched between her forefinger and thumb. Selket then sprinkled the sand over the man's eyes and over his body.

"Does this Dust of Earth hurt you, Son of Ra?" Selket asked. The Man shook his head no. "Good," she smiled.

Her hand reached into the jar and removed a fistful of sand. The winds scattered the sand across the body of Man. Before long, man was covered with the desert.

"There, Master," Selket said. "You're Man is almost completed. And yet, Master Ra, I sense Man is lonely..."

"Lonely!" Ra boomed. "How could **_my_** creation be lonely!"

"You have friends to keep you company, Great One. Must Man have no friends?" Selket questioned.

"A friend?" Ra pondered. "Very well. Isis, bring me your sickle."

Isis stepped to Ra and turned over her sickle to him. Ra took the mighty sickle and split Man down the center, and there Ra created Woman, Man's companion.

Now, Ra touched Man. His warm hands scorched Man's hair to black and tanned his body. Man opened his eyes and took his first glance upon his God, Ra. Ra then touched Woman. His warm hands scorched her hair to black and tanned her body. She looked upon her God, Ra.

Ra led Man and Woman to the shores of the Nile, where they were cleaned and dressed in fine linens. A lotus blossom perfumed Woman, and great oils perfumed Man.

"I name you, Man, Mada. You will take care of Woman and your children. And you will honor them. I name you Woman, Reh. You will take care of Man and your children. You will honor them. May you live and be eternally blessed by the Sun Child, Ra," the God said, "for you are my children;  
Children of Ra and Children of the Nile.

Many, many centuries after the creation of Mada and Reh, Ra watched Earth and the thousands of children that lived on the land with a great disappointment.

"Why the solemn face, Ra?" Hathor asked that morning.

"The people are in search of a leader. A mortal leader," Ra sighed. "They ask me to find a wise ruler, but where am I to find one?"

"My Lord," Selket said, looking up from her weaving loom, "there is a man in a village along the Nile. The village is Memphis. His name is Pepii, and the people in the village come to him with their troubles. He is very wise."

"Wise? I will pay a visit to this man, Pepii. If he is as wise as you say, Selket, he may become leader of the children of Mada and Reh. Hathor, fetch my cloak," Ra said. Hathor brought his golden cloak to him. She placed the cloak over his shoulders. "Horus," Ra called, "are my horses and chariot ready?"

"Yes, my Lord," Horus said.

"Horus, you shall drive my chariot," Ra said. Horus bowed his head. "Selket, stay here and finish your weaving," Ra spoke.

Selket turned back to her loom, as Ra stepped into his Sun Chariot. Horus took the reins and the chariot started off to Earth.

The fields were green and fertile that season. Lush grass covered the lands of the Nile, far as the eye could see. And so it was a good day for Pepii to let his flock of sheep graze. Pepii stood atop the hill and watched his flock at peace. The cool Nile breezed blew calmly past him, but he felt a warm glow around him. Pepii's eyes left the flock and turned in back of him. Pepii saw the most beautiful, golden chariot pulled by a handsome pair of gold stallions. The chariot came from the sky, like the sun, and stopped on the peak of the hill. Pepii felt that this must be the presence of a nobleman. He kneeled and bowed his head to this man, who stepped from the chariot.

"Pepii?" the nobleman spoke. "You are Pepii, descendent of Mada and Reh, true?"

"That I am, Lord," Pepii said.

"Rise. I am Ra, creator of Mada and Reh, and God of the Sun. I have heard you are a wise man. Is this true?" Ra questioned.

"Not as wise as you, God Ra," Pepii spoke. "The people come to me with questions. I only give them logical answers, my Lord. If this make me wise, then..."

"You must prove to _me_, God Ra, that you are indeed a wise man. I shall give you three tasks. Let me inform you now that they will not be simple. When you have completed my three tasks, I will make you a leader over men," Ra spoke. Pepii didn't know how to respond to this honor.

"What must I do, Lord?" Pepii shook.

"Dam the waters of the Nile. Then show the farmers how to farm with the dammed water. And then show the villagers to move it easily. That shall be your first task," Ra informed. "When you are finished, I shall return."

"I am but a common shepherd, my lord," Pepii spoke. "How many men may I have work for me?" Ra appeared insulted.

"None! If you are a wise man, you can do it alone," Ra sneered.

"A wise man, or a strong man, Sire?" Pepii questioned. Ra glared at Pepii long and hard.

"Set to work, mortal. I shall return at the end of your first task," Ra commanded.

He stepped into his fine chariot and rode off. Pepii watched Ra's chariot soar back into the heaven's. Pepii ran into the village and ran to the door of a small cottage.

"Namow! Namow!" Pepii called. An aged woman opened the door.

"Malar, where is Namow?" Pepii asked, taking the woman's worn hands in his.

"My daughter is in the garden," Malar answered. Pepii ran quickly around the side of the cottage,

"Namow!" Pepii called. A young, beautiful woman turned to him. She smiled pleasantly.

"Pepii!" she called, as he ran to her in the garden. Ivy ran along the stone arches and beautiful flowers grew all around. "Pepii," she said, "you look weary. What is ailing you?"

"Namow, I was visited by the Sun God!" Pepii exclaimed.

"Ra?" Namow inquired. "Why would he seek a common shepherd?"

"He believes me to be a wise man. If I perform three tasks of his will, I may become leader of this land!" Pepii said. "I must first dam the Nile water. Then teach farmers how to farm with the dammed water, and villagers how to move large quantities of it without hard labor."

"By yourself? Pepii!" Namow fretted.

"I must... to prove I am a wise man to Ra," he said.

"You don't have to prove to me that you are a wise man, Pepii," Namow said. "You'd better get started, then. Good luck. I will visit you tomorrow. You are a wise man, and you will make a fine husband."

Pepii kissed her soft cheek and left for his first task.

The next day, Pepii started. It took many hours to collect all the stones and mud needed for a successful, strong dam. Mid-day, Namow came with a basket of bread, grapes, and wine for him. It took Pepii two days to build twenty feet of the fifteen mile wide River. After many months of working everyday, of laying stone after stone, and using mud as mortar, and many months of sweat and blood; the dam was completed. After the completion, Pepii took no rest and started on his next phase.

With permission of a well-known farmer, Pepii began to dig trenches through the rows of plants. He dug and dug through the soil of the crops. It took him several days and nights to complete this. The dammed water flowed through the trenches and to the crops. The local farmers saw this and questioned Pepii about it.

"I call it _irrigation_," Pepii told them.

Pepii journeyed to the other half of the Nile. He chopped down a palm tree, the sturdiest, and started hatching the wood into a "Y" shape. He took another palm tree and made a huge ball of mud and placed it on one end of the tree to act as a weight. While the mud dried, he carved a hole on the other side of the tree. Pepii took a strong rope and threw it over the limb of a tree. He tied the end of the rope to the "Y" shaped palm. With the other end, Pepii lifted the "Y" shaped palm and placed the end in a hole he dug earlier. With the same rope and limb, he lifted the other palm into the V of the one in the ground. The end with the ball of mud weighed itself to the land. Pepeii tied the two palms together, but gave it enough slack to move up and down when needed. With another rope, he slipped one end through the carved hole and tied it into a strong knot. Finally, Pepii tied a large, clay jar to the other end of the rope. Villagers gathered around and watched Pepii and his odd invention. Namow came to watch, but Pepii pulled her aside.

"Namow, venture into the waters below my creation and wait for my instructions," he said.

Namow walked down into the waters and stood below Pepii. The water came above her waist and was quite chilling, but she waited for her love's orders. Pepii lowered the jar into the water. Namow filled the jar with water. When filled, Pepii pushed down on the muddied end of the one beam and the jar rose from the water. All the villagers applauded and were awed by this simple machine.

"What do you call this invention, Pepii?" a villager asked.

"I call it a _shaduf_!" Pepii exclaimed.

"He truly is a wise man!" another villager shouted.

"He has completed his first task, Sire," Hathor said gently, looking over the clouds of heaven down to Earth.

"I know, I know," Ra muttered. "It took him long enough!"

"My Lord, Pepii's worked night and day for months with hardly any rest! I believe him to be a good, responsible man for carrying a task of that strength," Selket said.

"Yes, yes, he has finished and is in need of another task. I have not yet thought of one," Ra blurted.

"Have him kill the White Crocodile!" Hathor suggested.

"No, no. Sobek would be furious. It needs to be almost impossible, and with a time limit," Ra pondered.

"Have him make 1,000 pounds of jewelry, Ra," Hathor commented.

"Jewelry! Hathor, be creative!" Ra laughed.

"Its perfectly creative, my Lord. All he has to do is make 1,000 pounds of jewelry... from sand," she smiled. Selket eyes became wide and alert.

"Jewelry? From sand! It's _impossible!_ I shall let him start at tomorrow's sunrise and finish by the next dawn. Perfect, Hathor! Perfect! Fetch my cloak! Horus! Hitch the stallions!" Ra called, as he left the room.

"Jewelry from sand? Not _quite_ impossible... Nothing is impossible," Selket thought. "This is finally the morning I've longed for! Ra will be humiliated at long last by me!"

As Pepii sheered his flock, the Sun Chariot came again. Pepii kneeled to Ra and stood again.

"You've done well in your first task, Pepii," Ra said.

"I'm glad I've pleased my Master," Pepii said proudly.

"But I've another task for you. I want you to make 1,000 pounds of jewelry..." Ra started.

"It sounds simple enough, Master," Pepii said.

"But remember, I said these would not be _simple_ tasks. I want you to make 1,000 pounds of jewelry... from _sand_," Ra smiled. Pepii shook his head in disbelief.

"Jewelry? From sand! Master Ra!" Pepii exclaimed in shock.

"Only a _wise man_ knows how to do the impossible." Pepii paused and sighed deep.

"Very well, God Ra. I will do this task," he said solemnly. "How many men may I have work for me?"

"None. You must work alone. Except you must have the 1,000 pounds done by a day's sunrise. Tomorrow, at dawn, you'll go into the desert and collect the sand. You will have by the next dawn to have it finished. You, then, will take it to my temple at Heliopolis," Ra said.

"Be at Heliopolis by sunrise?" Pepii shook.

"Until then, Pepii," Ra said, as the chariot raced back to the sky, leaving the dumb-struck Pepii behind.

"That should keep him busy," Ra said, taking off his cloak and handing it to Hathor.

"What will, Lord?" Bastet asked. She played Senet with Sobek and Selket.

"Pepii's new task. I will utterly enjoy watching this! He won't have it done by dawn. He couldn't possibly! Oh, this is fun: tormenting humans!" Ra chortled. "Yet, I am tired. I leave you now, so that I may rest." Ra left the three to their game.

"Selket," Bastet said, "I believe you know something about the mortal's new task. You never wear that look upon your face."

"If it is something, sister, you are free to tell us and still keep it secret," Sobek offered.

"Very well, but it is to not leave this room," Selket warned. The two nodded their heads. "I am going to help Pepii in his task."

"What?" Bastet shrieked.

"Shhh!" Selket scolded.

"Sister, how do you intend to do this?" Sobek asked.

"I know how to make jewelry from sand... The mortal is wise, but even the wise need answers," Selket said.

"What if Ra find's out?" Bastet asked.

"He won't because you won't tell him. I am Goddess of the Desert Sand. He will be treading my grounds, and therefore, I have a right to aide him," Selket nodded. Bastet and Sobek smiled.

"This is your revenge on Ra from what he did to you on the Dawn of the Lotus, isn't it?" Sobek asked.

"Yes."

"I believe it to be perfect!" Bastet and Sobek both said happily.

"Malar? Where is Namow?" Pepii asked sadly.

"My daughter is at the banks of the Nile, washing linens," the old woman answered. Pepii walked to the Nile, where he saw his future bride amongst other women, talking and washing linens.

"Namow," Pepii called from the shores. Namow ran to him with an embrace of greeting and a wet cloth.

"Pepii," Namow said. "You are upset. What is ailing you?" Pepii motioned for her to walk with him.

"Ra returned to me, while I was sheering the flock," Pepii said. "He wants me to venture off into the desert tomorrow at sunrise, gather sand, make 1,000 pounds of jewelry from the sand, and take it to his temple at Heliopolis by dawn."

"That's impossible, Pepii!" Namow raged. "Why does he make a shepherd do the work of Gods! Must you do this task alone?"

"I wish I didn't, but I must. I will leave at dawn tomorrow for the Libyan Desert," Pepii informed.

"What if you do not complete this task?" Namow questioned.

"I'm afraid of what might happen..." Pepii said.

"If you must go, I will not stop you. Good luck. I still do not see why you have to prove to the Gods that you are a wise man, for I already know you are," Namow said, kissing his cheek.

She left his side and went back into the waters.

The sands of the Libyan Desert cut through Pepii's feet. It burned him, even in the first hours of dawn. After many hours of searching for good sand - sand to make jewelry from - he collapsed in anger and frustration. Tears of worry and hate fell from his eyes. He picked up a fistful of sand and threw it into the wind. He beat his hands against the sands mercilessly and wept.

"_Pepii_," the winds called. He looked about him, there was no one. "_Pepii_," the winds called again.

"I am delusional. The desert heat is playing games with me," Pepii said.

He looked up and saw huge amounts of sand fly up with the wind and spun around in a circular pattern, like a hurricane. The sand then dropped to the ground and a beautiful figure, made of sand rose from the desert. The sand then dropped down from the figure to reveal a beautiful woman dressed in lovely, white linens and sleek, ebony hair. Her skin as tan and smooth as the sand itself. Her eyes like black glass. She stepped towards the fallen Pepii.

"I am Selket, Goddess of the Desert. You seek my help, young shepherd?" she questioned.

"Yes, Goddess, I do. I was asked by the God Ra to..." Pepii started.

"Yes, Pepii, I know about your tasks. That is why I am here. The God Ra scorned me and hurt my pride on the Dawn of the Lotus, many years ago. I swore to have my vengeance. This is my chance. I will help you make jewelry from the sand, and see that it is delivered safely to Heliopolis. Come, we begin," Selket said, offering her hand for him to take.

He lifted himself up and she took a jar from the sand and gave him important instructions.

"Take this jar and fill it with sand. When you have finished call for me," she said, falling through the sand into nothingness.

Pepii took the jar and started placing the sand into it hurriedly. When he had finished, he called for Selket, and she came.

"I've asked my brother, Ptah, if we could use his smith's shop. Come with me," she ordered.

She led Pepii to the blacksmith shop of her brother, Ptah, the Craftsmen God. Pepii started withdrawing the sand from the jar and placed it into the molds he saw, while Selket started a fire.

As Pepii drew the last handful of sand, he was stung. A sharp pain spread through his hand and up his arm. He withdrew his hand and found that a scorpion had stung him. In shock, he dropped the jar, which shattered, startling Selket. She turned and saw him drop, and she rushed to his side, as the scorpion slinked away into a dark corner.

"Pepii?" she called. "Pepii, keep awake. I will heal you... but do not close your eyes until I tell you to. Do not close your eyes!"

Pepii fought a hard war to keep his eyes open. Selket touched the sting and ran her hand up his arm. When finished she turned to him.

"Pepii, you now may sleep."

Not a moment more, he was sleeping peacefully.

He awoke suddenly to finish his work and aide Selket, but he was not in the blacksmith shop. He was not even in Memphis. Pepii, startled, climbed to his feet to see the sun dawning. He was surrounded by stone arches and beautiful offerings. Ra's Sun Chariot stopped in front of the stone structure.

"Welcome to Heliopolis, Pepii, and good morning," Ra chortled.

"Good morning, Master," Pepii yawned.

"Do you have my task completed?" he asked, entering the temple.

"Well, Master, a scorpion stung me, and I..." Pepii started, but he saw the surprised look on Ra's face.

Two hundred clay jars filled the room. Ra silenced him and opened a lid to one. Jewels, five pounds worth, filled every jar. Ra's mouth hung open.

"You did it?" Ra questioned. "How?"

"I... uh... took the sand and fired it into glass," Pepii stuttered.

"I have, then, one final task for you. Build a temple to the Gods," Ra muttered.

"How many men may I have work for me?" Pepii asked.

"None."

And with no more words, Ra left in his chariot. Pepii turned and looked at the jars in awe. Selket entered the temple. Pepii started to speak, but she hushed him.

"My brothers and sisters have temples named for them," she sighed. "Heliopolis for Ra, Dendera for Hathor, Abydos for Osiris, Edfu for Horus, Kom Ombo for Sobek, Aswan for Isis... I helped you in your second task and saved your life..."

"You need not ask, beautiful Goddess. I shall build this temple in your sacred name," Pepii smiled.

Selket nodded, and before she left said:

"I was the one who told Ra about you. I knew you were the wisest... even of the Gods."

And so, when Pepii returned to Memphis, he constructed the most beautiful temple to Selket, Goddess of the Desert. And at the completion of the temple, Namow visited.

"It is lovely, Pepii. Your finest work. Your tasks are finished, now you can rest," Namow said.

"That's true," Ra said, entering the temple with Selket. "I have made Selket my Royal Advisor, and I name you Pharaoh. Pepii, the first Pharaoh of the Land."

"The Land shall be called Egypt," Pepii said, overjoyed. "Meaning _Beauty of the Nile_."

"One more thing, Pepii," Selket said. "I have a task for you. You will marry your queen before you do anything else."

That was the simplest task Pepii was ever given.


	3. Chapter 3

_**The Remainder of the Night**_

"That was a lovely story, my dear," commented the Spaniard's wife.

"You tell a heathen tale!" accused the Spaniard. His wife hushed him with the words: _Keep your thoughts to yourself_.

"It is a story from my land, where not every soul believes in the One. However, my mother taught me to love God. I found it appropriate for our travel."

"Even the wise need answers..." the Russian mused in thought. "Could it be that our guide is taking the simple road, instead of facing the problem directly?" The three thought over those words a few moments. Finally the Russian broke the silence.

"I will follow you across the river, Egyptian, however ludicrous it seems," the Russian declared. The Egyptian nodded at him.

"My husband and I will follow you in your decision, young lady," the Spaniard's wife announced.

"Are you insane, wife?" the Spaniard glared. "This river will be our death. It is wise to follow the procession. Remember: _keep the straight path_!"

"No, husband, the procession is straying from the straight path. Straight before us is the river."

The Spaniard sighed wearily and reluctantly agreed that he and his wife would forge their cart and venture across the river with the little Persian girl, the Egyptian, and the Russian. Their conversation lasted long into the night until their flame was the last to be extinguished.

The following morning, the pilgrims started for the rising sun - east. The priest noticed that the troupe of five stayed behind and headed for the shores of the river. The priest, atop his steed, ventured to the new clan and questioned their actions.

"We're crossing the river," answered the Egyptian, mounting her horse.

"Are you reforming from my authoritative decision?" chided the priest.

"If you mean not moving east, than yes," replied the Egyptian.

"I will have you arrested and charged!" retorted the priest in an exalted tone.

"On what grounds?" questioned the Spaniard.

"On the grounds of blasphemy to the name of the Catholic Church and to Saint Bernadette," listed the priest.

"You will do nothing of the sort!" laughed the Russian. "You _good_ Christians, flaunting your sanctity! Pathetic..."

With a huff, the priest turned his horse to the east and trotted to the lead of the pilgrimage.

"Well, young man. It may be a blessing for your company in this journey after all," the Spaniard praised.

It was a task pulling the cart and mule through the water, but luckily the water was not extremely high at that season, and it made for easy crossing. The Spaniard's wife took the Persian into the river and bathed her, washing the filth from her hair and the cakes of dirt from her skin. _What a lovely child_, the Spaniard's wife thought to herself after drying and clothing the young girl; and indeed after being cleaned, the Persian was a beautiful child, and she had expression to her face! The Egyptian pulled the Persian up onto her saddle and rode with the girl in her arms for a time. The girl squealed with delight at the thought of being up so high, and she smiled and laughed. The Russian and the Spaniard argued for hours on thoughts of philosophy, politics, religion, and wine.

Having traveled for the day they reached a point where two paths diverged into a forest. One path heading straight and one meandering to the right. Not knowing which path to take, the five travelers rested for the night. After supper, the five sat quietly contemplating which path lead to Lourdes.

"Which road shall we travel by tomorrow morning?" questioned the Russian. "One leads to Lourdes, the other... only the good Lord knows."

"I say we take the one traveled more, you see the right path is more trampled and trodden... it seems the best to travel by," said the Egyptian.

"But because something appears to be one way, could easily be opposite," replied the Persian girl with sleepy eyes.

"Truly, the child is correct," nodded the old Spaniard. The others looked at him uncertain of what he said.

"Pardon?" the Russian said.

"I know which path we should take," the Spaniard clarified.

"And that is...?" the Egyptian pressed.

"The straight one," the Spaniard muttered easily, sipping from his wine cup.

"And how, sir, are you so sure that the straight path will lead us to Lourdes?" questioned the Egyptian.

"Let me, too, tell a tale. This tale is from Spain, my wife's and my land of birth," started the Spaniard.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Legend of a Truly Wise Man**_

The Tale of the Spaniards

Three men from a poor and tiny village set out one warm summer morning to the nearest bustling town - roughly ten miles away - to search for work to support their families. The three were very good amigos and traveled the path from the earliest light of dawn until the setting of the sun. At twilight, the three encountered a wealthy man, with a wagon loaded with sacks full of golden coins pulled by a stubborn burro. The wealthy man was having a terrible time calming the burro, who had a few moments before been startled by a snake, that now lay dead in the path. The three men rushed to the aide of the other, calmed the burro, and disposed of the dead snake.

"Gracias," the wealthy man sighed with relief. "I can never thank you enough." He paused for an instant and continued: "However, I can offer you either one of two things. In return for your generosity, I will give you a satchel of coins for your families, or I will gladly give you three pieces of good advice."

The first and second man without thought each took a satchel of money and headed their way home to their homes, proud of never having to find work in the city. The third man watched his friends disappear into the horizon forgetting all about him.

"I am sorry, but I have no more gold to give," said the wealthy man, looking upon the forlorn face of the third man.

"I suppose then that I will take the three pieces of advice," the man replied.

"A wise decision, my friend. First: Never stray from the straight path. Even though the straight path may seem longer and more strenuous than the other, it is the path that will lead you to where you need to be. Second: Keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself. The words spoken by others do not necessarily need to be the same words spoken by you. And third: Reflect before you act. Remember things are not always as they appear to be."

And the wealthy man again thanked the traveler and wished him prosperity in his future. Somewhat disappointed in his decision for the advice, the man continued on his way to the city. He could have very easily taken a satchel of money and be on his way home to his loving wife and baby son, but returning home empty handed would be distressing to his family. He followed the long direct road into the city.

Meanwhile the other two men, with the satchels of money heading home to their families, came to a split in the road that they had seen many times. One path was the longest, most troublesome way home. The other path was believed to be shorter and less complex. The men took the shorter path to their homes. Gloating about the wonderful stories they would have to impress their wives and neighbors, the two men sadly met up with a tribe of banditos. The banditos were a fearsome group and when they caught sight of the satchels of money, they attacked the two men stealing their satchels and clothing, and leaving them beaten and unconscious in the road. Many days later, the two men awoke and headed home ashamed and with nothing, not even the clothes on their backs.

However, our third man had arrived in the lively town, after taking the straight path, and found work washing dishes in a local respected restaurant and inn. The couple that employed him were two of the most interesting matched people he had ever seen. His employer was a very tall man, with a large belly. His wife was a very petite and slender creature. Many of the Inn Keeper's employees had questioned aloud why his wife, being so beautiful and delicate, would ever marry a man who was so very fat and heavy. Our man remembered the second piece of advice given to him so many years ago, and kept his opinions of his employers to himself.

The man was very happy working for the Inn Keeper and his wife. They treated him kindly fed him well and let him sleep in a warm bed, and yet as the years passed, nearly twenty by now, the Inn Keeper and his wife were becoming more elderly and decided at one point to retire. Sadly, the inn and restaurant was very popular and filled with citizens. The man one night was called into a meeting with his employers.

"You called for me," the man said meekly.

"Ah, yes. My wife and I are now very old and wish to live the remainder of our lives in the country," the Inn Keeper said proudly. "We, nevertheless, do _not_ wish to close the restaurant."

"I agree with you; it has become very well-known," the man replied shyly.

"Therefore, we are leaving the business to you and your family," the Inn Keeper smiled. Bewildered and dumbfounded, the man asked plainly why they had left a prosperous business to him - the dishwasher. "My wife and I recalled in the past when many people asked why my wife and I were happy together when I am so large and she so dainty. And we recalled that you never said anything cruel or uncalled for, and we believe you worthy to become the new owner of our tavern."

Wonderfully joyous and bewildered, the man's feet ran him the straight path home to his family. As he reached his home, which he had not seen in many years, he peered through the window and noticed his wife cuddling next to a perfectly handsome young man. She cooed to him and had love in her eyes.

"I have been away for so long that my wife has found another love!" swore the man with rage. He pulled out his knife and planned to bolt into the house and kill them both. But he remembered the third piece of advice given to him ages ago: reflect before you act. He loathingly put away his knife and opened the door to his house. His wife stood to greet him.

"Wife, what is this?" he said with a hint of anger in his voice.

"Husband, why do you look enraged? Why, this is your son - home from his travels!" she delighted in saying.

His son? Why, his son was an infant when he left for the city, and now he was a grown man. The thought of murdering them both made him sick, but as soon as his son held him in his strong arms, the man became well. The man and his family packed their belongings and traveled the straight path to the city and became very wealthy governing the tavern.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Continuation of the Next Day**_

The five travelers slept late the next morning, awaking to see the dew off the flowers begin to vanish. They packed their camp and started down the straight, burdensome path to Lourdes. They traveled in the warmth of the May afternoon, and the breeze of the evening. Many miles they covered that day - but they stopped to rest at the shores of a small lake hidden in a valley. The hills glittered with emerald grass and the trees echoed the lushness of the valley. The lake possessed some mystery to it. It was crystal blue and shone like sapphires.

"I have never seen water this clear before!" exclaimed the Persian wading through the waist deep water.

"We ought to find some trout for supper tonight in these waters, if our little friend doesn't scare them off first," the Russian noted, keeping watch of the Persian chasing the fish in the waters.

"I've never eaten fish before!" yelped the Persian with sudden interest.

"By the looks of you, it seems you've never eaten anything before," the Russian smiled. The Persian paid no heed and continued at her game.

"It is so beautiful here," gasped the Egyptian. "I want to live forever just from seeing this. It's a shame that St. Bernadette couldn't have lived long enough in her life to see this and the world…"

"Oh, my dear, you shouldn't speak of such things. The Lord had a plan for her. And there is a plan for you and for all of us. And none of them include living in this life forever," said the Spaniard's wife gently.

"Why is that, Madam?" the Egyptian challenged. "To be young forever! To see the people come and go as they please - never fearing death!"

"That's exactly my point, dear. All people, as they get older, do not fear death coming for them. It's a release. Perhaps someday you'll come to realize that," the Spaniard's wife replied.

"Until that day, I shall want death to _fear_ me and never come to claim me!" the Egyptian shouted with joy soaking her beautiful feet into the lake.

"I knew a man who said exactly the same thing," the Russian began.

"Is this a story?" the Persian asked with delight coming onto the shore and sitting before the blazing fire.

"If you want it to be, yes."

"What's in your bag?" asked the Persian girl, searching through the Russian's sack. "I can smell biscuits!"

"Imagination..." the soldier muttered.

"Let me see!" the Persian yelped with excitement.

"I need those biscuits to tell my story!" the Russian gasped, pulling the bag away from her small hands.

"Well then, tell your story and then we can eat them," the Persian said.

"Is it an old story?" asked the Egyptian with fascination.

"Yes, very old," replied the Russian sitting comfortably on his log.

"Oh, stale biscuits..." commented the Persian with disgust.


	6. Chapter 6

_**The Legend of the Soldier and Death**_

The Tale of the Russian

This story I tell begins a thousand miles from anywhere, after twenty years of war, there was a soldier. He was an honest soul carrying with him one shilling in his pocket and three dry biscuits for the long trudge home. Oh, yes! One thousand miles the soldier marched whistling his tuneless whistle. Having spent his shilling, he was now down to his three dry biscuits. While traveling down a lonely road, he met a fiddler, who was down on his luck. The soldier stopped and listen the fiddler's music. After the fiddler ended his melody, the soldier applauded joyously.

"A merry tune you have there!"

The fiddler looked at him and said, "Is it worth a farthing, sir?"

"More," said the soldier, "but, I have nothing to give you." The soldier thought for a moment and continued. "I have a biscuit you may take."

The fiddler smiled at him graciously, and said, "You are a good man, Soldier, and you deserve a better whistle."

And off the soldier went and took up with his tuneless whistle, but funny, peculiar, and strange indeed: this time his tune was so beautiful that the nightingale hung her head in shame. Whistling his joyous tune the soldier continued down the long road, until he met another poor man down on his luck and worn at the edges. The old man played a grand jig on his drum! The soldier stopped and whistled his ruby whistle and did a small clumsy dance in his weary boots - a-stumblin' and a-hoppin'. Then the soldier swapped another biscuit, and now his dance was lively and well-kept like none other. Oh, yes, the soldier was doing well now, a skip and a hop down the road.

At length, he came to a third old soul, worn to a whisper and playing a game of cards by the road. The soldier looked at the fellow as he shuffled the deck and dealt out the cards - a perfect hand; he gave the soldier a splendid performance. The soldier ended with a huge clap!

"A splendid game!" the soldier exclaimed.

"Worth a farthing?" the beggar asked.

"More, but I have nothing to give you," the soldier replied. Now the soldier had but a single biscuit in his pocket and he was hungrier than the devil. "I've a biscuit you can _share_ with me," he said reaching for the bit of food. The soldier held out his last, dried biscuit and broke it in two, but it didn't seem right to give the old boy less than the others. So he gave him both halves. The beggar smiled.

"You're a good man and deserve more luck than two be on your last biscuit. Here, take my cards and may they never loose for you," the beggar said with a smile. "And take this sack also. An ugly thing but remarkable. Call a bird in or a beast or anything you like, and it will be there in a twinkle."

The soldier graciously took the cards and the sack and traveled a hop, a skip, a whistle, a light heart, and an empty sack through a cold night and a warm day until he came to a river. He called to a flock of geese wading on the water.

"Geese! Get in my sack!" Four geese traveled to the shore and flew into his sack. A remarkable thing! He tied the sack shut and went again on his way to an inn near town. Inside, the soldier set down his sack and rested in a chair by the door. The landlord poured a cup of ale and brought it to the weary soldier.

"That's a nice whistle," the landlord commented.

"I got it off of a poor soul down on his luck," the soldier replied, taking the cup of ale to soothe his voice.

"Home from the war are you?" the landlord asked, pulling up a chair.

"Aye."

"And with a sack full of spoils?" inquired the man.

"No," laughed the soldier. "This is four geese I trapped the other day. I'd like one for my supper. If you'll cook it for me and give me a bed, I'll let you have the other three."

The landlord's eyes lit with joy. "I can always use a nice bird," he said taking the sack with him into the kitchen.

"Make sure you bring back the sack!" called the soldier, sitting back in his chair.

The landlord roasted the goose in cloven honey and brought it out with a bottle of his best wine. The soldier ate it all and sucked the bones and drank the wine, and danced 'till the morning until he plopped into bed.

Three days later he awoke and opened the window, and there on the hill stood a palace. The landlord entered the soldier's room with a tray of breakfast pastries.

"Whose palace is that?" asked the soldier, sitting down with a pastry. "And why are the windows all smashed?"

"That was the Czar's palace. It was once a place of waltzes, chandeliers, and fabulous parties. Now, the devils have it for their card games." The soldier appeared interested.

"Devils?"

"Aye, devils!" the landlord replied. "Every night they come and scream and shout and play their cards. People won't go round because they're so devilish."

"It's a nice palace. Someone should go and drive them out," the soldier replied, taking a second look.

"An army tried. And in the morning there was nothing left but shadows, and that's the truth!" the landlord said, seeming now to be spooked.

"I think I'll take a closer look," the soldier said with half a smile, throwing his sack over his shoulder.

"That's folly!" cried the landlord.

Folly or not, the soldier entered the palace, sack on his shoulder, whistle on his lips, cards in his hands. Inside it was very quiet, as if the walls were holding their breath... and waiting. The soldier waited and waited and waited until a leering clock chimed midnight. The soldier caught sight of shadows from the beams, but the flame from his candle whisked out before he could truly determine what the shadows were. He struck a match and gathered around the table where he sat were devils, as many as twenty he believed. With their devilish grins, they hissed at him. Continuing his cheery whistle, he lit the lantern above him, flooding the whole room with light.

"That's a nice whistle, I'd like to have it!" hissed one of the devils.

"Hello," said the soldier. "I hear you like a game of cards. What shall we play for?"

"His soul!" the devils all nodded in agreement.

"Fair enough," said the soldier, "but what will you stake?"

"Forty barrels of gold."

"Very good," said the soldier. And with that they settled down to business. The soldier dealt the cards and won. And won again. The devils got into a kind of fume only devils can get in. The soldier won every game no matter how the devils had cheated.

By morning, the forty barrels of gold were staked behind the chair of the soldier.

"Well, my friends, I suppose we'd better call it a day," smiled the soldier triumphantly.

"No we will not!" hissed the devils. "It's time for breakfast and you are the meal!"

"Oh really?" inquired the soldier. "Let's see who eats whom!"

With those words the soldier brought forward the sack and threw it on the table. Opening the sack he said, "Do you know what this is?"

"A sack..." replied the devils.

"Then by the grace of God, get in it!" he screamed. The devils immediately flew into the sack. The soldier abused the devils by throwing them against the walls of the castle and dropping them from high balconies. "Do you want more?" he finally asked.

"No! No!" wailed the devils.

"Will that be the end to your mischief in these parts?" demanded the soldier. The soldier let all of the devils go except for one. He made that devil promise to serve him faithfully in return for his freedom. He then cut off the devil's foot to remind the creature of his promise. The devils rushed to Hell and slammed the door for fear of being followed by the soldier and his sack.

The soldier was now the toast of the town and the star of the Czar. He married the Czar's daughter and they had a son. Life smiled on the soldier until one day his son fell ill from a fever.

They called for doctors and quacks and apothecaries. No one could seem to save the boy. Soon those gray beards were replaced by priests, and eventually a man in black came to measure for a coffin.

"What shall we do husband?" asked the soldier's wife fretfully.

"It's all for the devil," replied the soldier with a heavy and grieving sigh. Suddenly he remembered his own devil. He called the devil forth and said: "If you can cure my son I will give you your foot back."

The devil produced a magic glass goblet. He had the soldier look into the side of goblet.

"What do you see?" asked the devil.

"I see a small creature dressed in black," responded the soldier.

"That is Death, Excellency," said the devil. "Where is he standing?"

"At my son's feet," replied the soldier.

"Good, then your son will recover. Sprinkle some of the water from the glass on him and he will soon be well. When Death comes to the _head_ is when you must worry."

The soldier did as the devil bade, and the boy recovered almost immediately.

"You are a marvel!" the soldier exclaimed.

"May I have my foot back then?"

"Certainly," said the soldier.

"Anything else, sir?"

"Give me that glass and I will release you from your promise."

The devil agreed. The soldier set up in his trade as miracle man. He traveled the world with his magic glass. Whenever he met a sick man he would hold up the glass. If Death was at the foot of the bed, he sprinkled water on him and he was cured. If Death was at the head, the soldier shook his head and people paid him anyway. But as often as not, he left with everyone happy and praising him. Everything went along well until one day the soldier was summoned to the Czar's bedside.

The soldier arrived as quickly as possible but through his glass he saw that Death stood at the head of the bed.

"I've come to late..." he muttered.

The soldier's wife, the Czar's own daughter replied sharply: "You have saved the poor and destitute and you will not save your own king, my father?"

"I can not stop Death," the soldier solemnly replied, looking into his wife's mournful face. "But if Death needs a new friend, he should take me instead."

The soldier stepped to the Czar's bedside and peered once more at the black shrouded creature. "Take me and spare the Czar."

The shrouded figure of Death turned and disappeared. The soldier dipped his fingers into the glass and sprinkled the Czar with its magic waters. The Czar sat up, instantly healed, exclaiming _Praise Be!_ The soldier turned and headed for the door.

Many days later the soldier fell ill and lay dying. He pulled the glass from under the covers to have one last look at Death, who was standing by his head. Carefully the soldier pulled out another object from under the covers.

"Do you know what this is, Death?" asked the soldier weakly.

"A sack..." the creature replied in a whisper.

"Well, if it's a sack, then get in it!" said the soldier. The creature was instantly was drawn into the bag. Death was a prisoner. The soldier was instantly cured.

He took the bag and traveled until he found the thickest forest, and there he climbed the highest tree. He hung Death on the furthest bough, and promptly fell off. There is nothing like the absence of Death to cushion the fall. Nothing died. There were wars where no one died. The soldier celebrated this new found fame by sitting in his palace whistling his ruby whistle. Until one day he looked outside his window to see a horrible sight.

The courtyard was full of poor souls waiting for Death to collect them. The soldier could not bear their sorrow. So he traveled again to the forest and climbed the tree; he brought down the sack. Before he released Death, the soldier said: "I have lead you a merry dance. Now it is time that you have me and set the world right."

With fearful eyes Death flew out of the sack and disappeared. Death was so afraid of the soldier and his sack that he never claimed him. The soldier watched as one by one all of his family and friends passed on, but still Death did not come for him. The soldier lived on until he could stand it no more.

He traveled to Hell where he asked the devils to take him. The devils recognized the soldier and closed the door in fear. The soldier then asked for 200 souls that the devils no longer had use for and a map to Heaven. He took the souls to Heaven where he met an angel at the gate. The angel said he would allow the souls in, to claim God's forgiveness, but the soldier must remain outside. The solider gave his sack to one of the souls. He bid the soul that once inside, he should call him into the sack. The souls entered the gates and the soldier waited and waited.

But you see, souls have no memory in Heaven. Souls forget. He had been inches from paradise and he could not enter. At long last the soldier started back to earth, and for all I know he wanders still.


	7. Chapter 7

_**At Long Last...**_

"That is so sad..." the Egyptian muttered with a heavy sigh.

"No," the Russian smiled, reaching for his mug of ale. "He's a rare fellow, my friend the soldier. He's somewhere about his business."

"Are you sure?" questioned the Persian girl.

"Come now," the Russian said. "You may have your biscuit."

The Persian's eyes lit with delight as she took the biscuit. She then eyed the sack.

"Do you know what this is?" she asked the Russian.

"A sack," he replied simply, feeding the fire.

"Well, if it's a sack... get in it!" she commanded, and nothing happened. "Just checking..."

The Russian picked up the bag, and tossed it near the mules and the cart.

By that next evening, the five travelers arrived in Lordes to pay homage to their beloved Saint Bernadette. Once in the gates of the city, they asked citizens of the city if the pilgrims had arrived to pray to the Saint. No one had heard word from the pilgrims since the night on the river.

"Often enough taking the straight path will be a blessing," the Spaniard's wife said thankfully.

The five decided to pay tribute to Saint Bernadette before the other pilgrims arrived and cluttered the streets with their murmured prayers and blasting songs.

The Egyptian paid tribute first within the shrine to her beloved Saint.

"Saint Bernadette, I thank you for watching over me night and day. My gratitude for my health and my youth, kind saint. I pray to you to let my father and mother keep their health, as well. But pray should anything happen to either, I ask that my father leave his navigation and business to me so that I may sail proudly by the will of my father and in the holy name my savior. With much devotion, Amen."

The Russian followed after the Egyptian.

"Blessed Saint, I have been fortunate with the great things the Lord has brought into my life. The good Lord has provided everything I need. I travel to seek the Lord's teachings, the Lord's will, and to praise the holy name. Yet now I pray, kind saint, that you may grant me the peace and comfort of settling down now at long last. Perhaps my prayer will be heard and you may send this blessing my way. Amen."

The kindly Spaniards entered next.

"Thank you, blessed Bernadette, for all the goodness the Lord has bestowed upon my family. I thank you, saint and my God, for my prosperous mill and my comfortable house, and most of all for my lovely wife of many years. I could ask for nothing more than to watch over my family and the travelers that came with us. May you pray for us all a safe passage home."

"Blessed saint, my husband has thanked you for everything, and I seek to thank you and our blessed Father also for our easy-life, however grant me a child to come in my life. A little girl to make clothes for or a little boy to sit at my feet while I sew. A child that I may cook for, and that my husband can be proud of in every detail. Gracious thanks to you, Holy Saint."

And finally the tiny Persian girl entered the temple.

"Dear Saint, I have a small voice and not much to say, but thank you for seeing that I am kept alive on the streets these many, many nights. And I pray my family is well, though I don't know their whereabouts now. But I ask you and the Son for someone to take care of me... perhaps a new mother and father? I would love them the same as mine in Persia. And as always, Saint, watch me so that I might live another night and day. Please hear my prayer, Saint. Praise be your name."

"Pity," muttered the Persian with a sigh, as she exited the temple.

"A pity against what, little Persian?" questioned the Egyptian.

"All the pockets I could have picked, and we'll be gone by the time they all arrive..."

"My dear, you will not pick pockets any longer," replied the Spaniard's wife. "If you will let us, my husband and I have discussed the matter thoroughly, and we wish to take you into our home." The Persian, overcome with delight, ran into the arms of the Spaniard and his wife.

And as the tale draws to an end, the Spaniard and his wife along with their new-found child said their good-byes to their traveling partners. The Russian and Egyptian, after staying the night and next day in the city of Lourdes, concluded that they would journey to Egypt, where the Russian would become a partner in navigation to the Egyptian's father and eventually to the Egyptian herself. The prayers had been answered by the Lord, by way of Saint Bernadette and her heavenly influence. All ended well in the pilgrimage to Lourdes, where five strangers bonded while they journeyed along, and the ultimate conclusion was happiness. And in every year afterwards, they all would meet in Barcelona, to travel once more to Lourdes, sharing more stories with great morals to be learned.


End file.
